Workshop 8

September 15, 2025

Kristina L. Wildes

Set the Mood First

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Opening Song: "Limerence" by Jutes

Let this song bleed into your chest.

There is something sharp and vulnerable in its sound, something that teeters between infatuation and desperation. This is not a calm track. It pulses. It claws. It sounds like someone trying to convince themselves they are okay, even as the truth scrapes its way out of their throat.

That is the energy you need this week. Because this is the week of the lie. Not a clean, clever deception, but the kind of lie that slips out mid-sentence. The kind that tastes like panic or longing or control. The kind that is not just told, it is needed.

So sit with the music. Feel that ache under the surface. Then write what they dare not admit. And what they do to cover it.

Where We Left Off

Last week, in Workshop 7, you wrote a scene where trust was tested. Where a relationship, whether romantic, platonic, familial, or forged under pressure, was pushed to its edge. You created a moment where two characters had to face the truth about each other. Maybe one betrayed the other. Maybe a long-held secret finally surfaced. Or maybe it was something quieter, like a hesitation, a silence that spoke volumes, or a support that never arrived.

And then you mapped it.

You stepped back and charted the connections. Who trusts whom. Who holds secrets. Where the loyalty lies. That wasn’t just a visual exercise. It was a map of your story’s emotional tension. Because characters are not islands. They are tethered to others through love, fear, need, and memory. And when those threads fray, the entire story shifts.

This week, we move deeper.

From connection to deception. From truth to strategy. From emotional honesty to protective falsehoods. This is not a retreat into melodrama. It is the next layer of narrative maturity. Because no story runs entirely on truth. Lies, omissions, and twisted versions of the facts are just as important.

Some characters lie to protect someone they love. Others lie because the truth would cost too much. Some lie to stay in control. Others lie because they believe it is their only option. And some lie because they enjoy the power it gives them.

This week, you will let them lie.

And then you will show us what happens when they do. Not just the surface fallout, but the shift beneath it. The growing tension. The erosion of certainty. The crack in the foundation of what someone believed was real.

Because once the lie is told, there is no clean return to how things were.

Not for them.

And not for the reader.

This Week’s Prompt

Write a scene where someone is caught in a lie, or chooses to tell one.

This is not about dishonesty just for the sake of drama. This is about survival. It is about manipulation, about control, about emotional or political leverage. It is about choosing silence when the truth would burn, or using words like armor when the truth would leave someone exposed and defenseless.

Sometimes a lie is clean, intentional, calculated. Other times it slips out with trembling lips and regret already blooming behind the eyes. Maybe your protagonist needs time to figure out what they really want, so they say what is easiest. Maybe your antagonist fakes indifference while dying inside. Or maybe a minor character learns something they were never supposed to hear, and someone else rushes in to contain the fallout with a well-placed fabrication.

Lies can take many forms. A convenient half-truth. A deflection. A secret buried under silence. A smile that says nothing and everything at once. The way a character averts their gaze. The way they insist “I’m fine” when they are unraveling inside. Do not limit yourself to spoken dialogue. Let the lie live in gesture, implication, or omission.

Ask yourself the deeper questions behind the lie:

• What does the character gain by lying?

• What would they lose if they told the truth?

• Is this a strategic move, or an emotional impulse?

• Who is the lie meant to protect?

• And who will it ultimately hurt?

• Does the person hearing the lie believe it, or do they let it pass because they are not ready for the truth either?

Lies are more than plot points. They are reflections of fear, love, trauma, ambition, and control. They reveal what matters most to a character by showing what they are willing to bend or break to preserve it.

Let the lie land. Let it disrupt the world around it. Let the ripple effect carry into future scenes, conversations, and consequences. A good lie is not a dead-end. It is a detour that changes everything.

Whether the lie is quiet or loud, deliberate or desperate, make sure it leaves a mark. Make sure it matters. Because once a lie is told, even if it is believed, something has shifted.

And no matter how the scene ends, nothing is quite the same again.

Let It Sink In

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Reflective Song: “Some Things” by Nevertel

This track bleeds with regret and confrontation. It is raw, personal, and restless. The kind of song that feels like pacing a room at 3 a.m. after something unforgivable has been said. "Some Things" captures the ache of realizing not everything can be undone. Some truths, spoken or unspoken, change everything the moment they exist.

Close your eyes. Let the lyrics press into the spaces your character does not want to examine. Let the weight of the unsaid sit on your chest like it sits on theirs.

Then breathe.

Think about what your character cannot take back. The thing they should have said but didn’t. Or the thing they did say, only to regret it the moment the words left their mouth.

Now let that moment shape your scene. Write not from the outside looking in, but from the heart looking out. Let the lie, the silence, the damage, or the truth echo through every word.

Write what they wish they could undo. Then do not let them.

Your Goal This Week

First Requirement - Write three to five pages.

Let the lie unfold in real time. Build tension through pacing, body language, setting, and subtext.

• Does the character hesitate before speaking?

• Do they talk too much?

• Too little?

• Is there a shift in tone, a flash of guilt in their eyes, a twitch in their jaw?

Show us the emotional toll of lying, or the cold ease with which it is delivered.

This scene should shift something in your narrative. Maybe it sets off a chain reaction. Maybe it creates a secret that will not stay buried. Or maybe it forces your character into a role they were never prepared for. Whatever direction it takes, make the consequences feel real, even if they are not immediate. Lies are never free. Even the smallest ones carry weight.

Second Requirement - Expand World-Building

This week, you are also going to expand your worldbuilding. Specifically the systems around truth and lies.

Define the laws, customs, or cultural expectations in your story that make lying dangerous or strategic.

For example:

• Is there a magical consequence to lying?

• Does the society punish deceit with exile or execution?

• Are there social or political structures built entirely on appearances?

• Is lying considered a survival skill, a necessary evil, or an unforgivable sin?

• Are there ways to detect lies, and what happens when someone gets caught?

This exercise matters because the danger or power of a lie only makes sense within the rules of your world. Whether you are writing fantasy, sci-fi, or contemporary fiction, you need to know what your characters are risking when they twist the truth.

Keep this world-building nearby. Future scenes will test it.

Craft Focus: Subtext and Control

Great liars rarely lay their cards on the table. They do not shout their deception from rooftops. Instead, they control the room with precision. They choose their words carefully, not just to avoid suspicion, but to steer the narrative. The true power of a lie is not in the words themselves, but in the spaces between them.

This week, your focus is on that control.

Subtext is the unspoken thread that runs beneath the dialogue. It is the breath caught in the middle of a sentence. The too-fast agreement meant to avoid further questions. The pointed silence that lands heavier than a scream. It is what your character chooses not to say, and how the other characters respond to that absence.

Think about how your characters control information in this scene. A shift in posture, a glance at the floor, a dry throat before answering. These are not filler actions. These are tactical moves. These are the weapons of someone who is hiding the truth. Use them with care. Use them with intention. These gestures tell us what your character fears, what they are trying to avoid, and how desperate they are to be believed.

But lying is not just about avoidance. It is also about power. Who holds it in this scene? Who believes they are in control, and who actually is? Pay close attention to the power dynamic between characters. Someone may dominate the conversation through volume, but another might hold all the leverage in silence. Who is manipulating the outcome? Who is clinging to the truth? Who walks away with more than they had when the scene began?

Let your characters speak with more than words. Let their body language betray them. Let their silence pulse with implication. Let them redirect conversations with expert subtlety. And most importantly, let your readers feel that tension. Trust them to recognize what is missing. Trust them to feel when something is off.

Layer your scene with complexity. Build it with nuance and unease. Do not over-explain the lie. Instead, build the tension until the reader knows the character is lying without needing to be told.

When you write with subtext and control, you invite your audience to lean in closer. You make them complicit. You make them part of the deception. And that is where the story becomes unforgettable.

Next Week: Workshop 9 Preview

In Workshop 8, we stepped into the charged and uncomfortable terrain of deception. You wrote the moment someone lied or was caught in a lie. You peeled back the mask, exposed motive, and layered your narrative with manipulation, misdirection, or quiet desperation. Whether your character lied to protect someone, to gain an edge, or simply to survive, you crafted a scene where honesty was not safe and untruth felt like the only viable path.

You also deepened your worldbuilding by defining what makes lying dangerous or strategic in your universe. You established the rules of truth, the punishments for deceit, and the cultural, magical, or societal weight behind every falsehood. This was not just about plot. It was about stakes. It was about showing your readers exactly what is on the line when the truth is twisted.

Now comes the fallout.

Next week, in Workshop 9, we write the consequence.

Because even the cleanest lie has a shadow. Even if no one catches it in the moment, the ripple has already begun. The small fracture in trust. The moment someone notices a contradiction. The cold pause after a sentence that does not quite make sense.

Next week, you will write the moment the lie begins to unravel. It could be a slip in dialogue, a secondhand revelation, a confrontation that hits too close to the truth. You will explore what happens when the cost of deception starts to show. The goal is not just to expose the lie, but to explore what it does to the people involved once it comes into the light or almost does.

Prepare for tension. Prepare for shifting allegiances. Prepare for a crack in the story’s surface that cannot be patched over.

-Kristina